


Holiday Mischief

by goodisrelative



Category: Murdoch Mysteries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-11
Updated: 2008-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:18:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodisrelative/pseuds/goodisrelative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em> It didn't take Julia long to put her Christmas present plan into action.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday Mischief

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [](http://groovekittie.livejournal.com/profile)[**groovekittie**](http://groovekittie.livejournal.com/) who posted her Wish List 2008 crazy early and I easily wrote this while watching TV, chatting with friends and waiting for news about my dad's by-pass surgery. Holiday fanfiction in an AWESOME, yet totally unappreciated fandom! Enjoy! Except, next time you give me the idea to write fic, can you do it on a night when I don't work the next day? Thanks. :-)

_**Fanfic: Murdoch Mysteries: Holiday Mischief**_  
Title: Holiday Mischief  
Author: [](http://goodisrelative.livejournal.com/profile)[**goodisrelative**](http://goodisrelative.livejournal.com/)  
Characters/Pairing: Dr Julia Ogden and Detective William Murdoch; slight Ogden/Murdoch  
Rating: G  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: _It didn't take Julia long to put her Christmas present plan into action._

Author's Note: This is for [](http://groovekittie.livejournal.com/profile)[**groovekittie**](http://groovekittie.livejournal.com/) who posted her Wish List 2008 crazy early and I easily wrote this while watching TV, chatting with friends and waiting for news about my dad's by-pass surgery. Holiday fanfiction in an AWESOME, yet totally unappreciated fandom! Enjoy! Except, next time you give me the idea to write fic, can you do it on a night when I don't work the next day? Thanks. :-)  
Thanks to [](http://pixie-on-acid.livejournal.com/profile)[**pixie_on_acid**](http://pixie-on-acid.livejournal.com/) for betaing and the footnote coding I still screwed up. Thanks to [](http://caroly-214.livejournal.com/profile)[**caroly_214**](http://caroly-214.livejournal.com/) for the beta and for being the next ~~victim~~ possible willing fan to this fandom. :-)

She stood in the doorway to his office inside Police Station #4. They'd met nine months ago – March 12th of this year, to be exact. She liked to watch him work and it was more fun when he wasn't aware of her. She smiled; it was almost too easy when he was working in his office.

She watched him, wondering what she could possibly get him for Christmas when he read more books and journals than she. She wasn't good at this. Their relationship was a hybrid – more than just colleagues, yet less than a courting couple. He frustrated her; just when she thought they were coming close to friends, he'd call her Dr. Ogden and erase days of easy friendship. She understood why and that was why she let him get away with it, but it didn't mean it was always easy to take.

She waited until he put down whatever it was in his hand and then asked, "What are you bringing to life this time, Dr. Frankenstein?"

He turned, smiling at her. "A surprise, Dr. Ogden, a surprise." He noticed the file in her hand. "Your post mortem is done already? I left you only thirty minutes ago."

"You left me three hours ago, Detective Murdoch." Her lips twitched up in a grin. "Whatever you are working on must be quite extraordinary."

"Perhaps one day." He motioned her in. "Please come in. What did your exam find in the manner of death?"

Julia lost her grin. "The child was malnourished and beaten. It was difficult to determine the exact cause of death. Given how long she'd been starved, that was surely a factor. But, then I found something else. It wasn't enough that they starved her and beat her; they murdered her." She didn't sit; instead she paced, agitated. She firmly believed that beating and starving a child should be considered murder. "There was a knife wound to the chest."

******

It was days later; they'd caught the woman responsible for killing the child. She knew cleaning her morgue wouldn't clean the memories of the child from her mind – she'd learned that long ago – but it made her feel better. She was cleaning, letting her mind wander as she did, when the thought hit her. He liked to tinker – creating things, inventing things. He had an account with the meat factory to do experiments to help him solve their cases. Why not give an anonymous gift to that fund and gather things that most would find junk, but he would see as parts for his inventions?

With a broad smile, she twirled around with the broom in her hands, singing along with the record playing on her phonograph. _Hark the herald angels sing, "Glory to the newborn King! Peace on earth and mercy mild. God and sinners reconciled." Joyful, all ye nations rise, join the triumph of the skies with the angelic host proclaim: "Christ is born in Bethlehem." Hark! The herald angels sing, "Glory to the newborn King!"_ 1

As she finished the first verse, twirling with the music, she caught sight of him in the doorway to her morgue out of the corner of her eye. She came up short in front of him.

"Dr. Ogden, I didn't know you sang." The detective's tone of voice held traces of mirth and he even had the audacity to be smiling.

"And I didn't realize you liked to spy on people, Detective," she retorted, after her pulse slowed to normal a moment later.

"I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to lunch, if you are free?"

"Of course. Just a moment!" There was no thought in her response; it was automatic. She returned the broom to its proper place, smoothed her hair down and then reached for her coat only to find it gone.

"Allow me." He held up her coat.

"Thank you." Julia looked down, hiding her blush, as she fed her arms into her coat.

As they walked, he asked, "So what revelation had you breaking into song, Dr. Ogden?"

The fact that he kept referring to her has Dr. Ogden should have rang alarm bells in her mind, but her happiness silenced them. She blushed at his question. "Really, William, I don't believe that is any of your concern." She smiled at him, mischief in her eyes.

She sighed when they walked into Police Station #4 and at the sight of the station decorated for the holidays. The smell of food was wonderful, as was the boisterous crowd. Her smile was forced for a moment, but then she shook her head and joined in the celebration. Christmas was her favorite time of year and she never could stay annoyed with him.

******

It didn't take Julia long to put her Christmas present plan into action. She added some money under Detective Murdoch's account at the meat factory. Then she started collecting things from friends and other places… junk to everyone – including her, she'd admit – but she knew he'd use them to make something wondrous.

The slightly devious part was setting up her surprise for Christmas Eve. Finding out his Christmas plans only took listening to the rumours floating around Police Station #4. He was working both Christmas Eve and Christmas so that the men with families could be with them for the holidays. So she arranged with Constable Crabtree for him to make sure both he and Detective Murdoch were out on patrol so she could enter and leave Police Station #4 without Detective Murdoch knowing.

At least, that had been her plan. She did manage to get into his office and set up the dinner and leave her gift. She even managed to not be inside his office when he and Constable Crabtree returned. But she didn’t make it out of the police station; she was laughing with the men and singing carols when Murdoch and Crabtree entered.

She didn't miss the split second of shock in his eyes, which only made her smile broader.

"Detective Murdoch, what a wonderful holiday surprise! I just bought over some food for the men working tonight." Once the Detective walked into his office, she shot a look at Constable Crabtree. He simply shrugged.

Her eyes wandered over to his office often while she talked and celebrated the holiday. She had wanted to follow him in and see his face, but she remained where she was. This was his first holiday after his fiancé died and she was willing to go to great lengths to surprise him, but she wasn't willing to walk the ten feet to his office.

So, fifteen minutes after he walked into his office, she made her way to the main door. He must have heard the well wishes from the men because suddenly his voice broke through the merriment. "Dr. Ogden, allow me to escort you home."

"I would be honoured, Detective." She smiled and waited for him at the door.

The walk, for the first few moments, was silent. Julia broke it with, "It feels like snow. I love Christmas snow. It's simply magical." She was looking up at the sky when she felt his eyes on her.

"I should think we have enough snow," he replied.

She looked over at him, her hand still on the arm he had offered her at the station. "Christmas snow is different, William. One can never have too much. It's the magic of Christmas. Just ask any child," she admonished him, but she was smiling. There was mischief in her eyes again. "Besides, if I wanted less snow, I'd move south."

"Have you been thinking about moving south, Dr. Ogden?" There was a shocked tone to his voice that she didn't miss.

She was disappointed that even now, in this most magical setting, he still called her Dr. Ogden. She sighed, knowing he'd attribute it to the differences in their beliefs about snow and said, "No, Detective. I am where I belong."

A moment later they arrived at her home and she turned to him. "Thank you, Detective, for walking me home. Have a lovely holiday." She turned to walk up her front steps.

He stopped her with words. "Thank you for the lovely dinner and the present, Julia. I shall put them to good use."

She turned and smiled brightly at him; happy the shadows hid her blush from him. "Merry Christmas, William."

  
1Hark the Herald Angels, written by Charles Wesley in 1739.  



End file.
